As we continued walking through the vast Drakonian landscape, a loud voice suddenly echoed from above. Startled, we looked up just as a Drakonian soared toward us, her wings glinting in the sunlight.

  “VAELRIK!” the voice roared, carrying a mix of authority and frustration.

  Vaelrik visibly winced, his stoic demeanor faltering. “Oh no…” he muttered under his breath.

  Before we could ask who this was, the Drakonian landed gracefully in front of us. She was striking—her scales shimmered with a soft pearlescent hue, and her piercing golden eyes locked onto Vaelrik with laser focus.

  “Who is that?” Sylas whispered, leaning toward me.

  Vaelrik sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. “That… is my wife.”

  We all stared at him in surprise, just as she stormed over to him.

  “Vaelrik Alheim! she snapped, jabbing a clawed finger into his chest. “I told you to stop bullying children and terrorizing other races!”

  “It’s not what it looks like—” Vaelrik began, but she cut him off by slapping him lightly across the face.

  The sound wasn’t loud, but the way Vaelrik flinched made it clear this was far from a rare occurrence.

  “You’re going against the rules again!” she scolded, crossing her arms. “How many times do we have to talk about this?”

  He stumbled back a step, looking more embarrassed than hurt. “Kyla, please—”

  Before he could finish, she turned to us with a radiant smile, her wings spreading wide. “Are you all alright? Did he hurt you? Don’t worry, I’ll punish him properly for this!”

  Before any of us could respond, she lunged forward and wrapped all of us in a warm, scaly hug. Her wings were massive, nearly engulfing our entire group.

  “W-We’re fine,” I managed, feeling both comforted and suffocated at the same time.

  “Truly, it’s a misunderstanding,” Mira added quickly, her face half-buried in Kyla’s scales.

  Sylas, ever the bold one, muttered, “I can’t breathe…”

  Kyla pulled back, looking genuinely relieved. “Oh, thank goodness. I swear, that man of mine has no sense sometimes.”

  “Kyla,” Vaelrik called from behind her, his tone exasperated. “Can I please explain?”

  She turned sharply, her tail swishing. “Explain what, Vaelrik? That you’re out here terrorizing people again?”

  “No,” he said with surprising patience. “I was helping them.”

  The words made her freeze. “Helping?”

  “Yes,” I interjected, coughing since I didn’t get enough oxygen earlier, deciding to clarify before things got more out of hand. “Vaelrik and his friends saved us from some dangerous situations and have been guiding us to the council.”

  Kyla’s expression shifted from suspicion to shock. She quickly turned back to Vaelrik, who was rubbing his temples.

  “Oh…” she murmured. Then, louder, “Oh, my poor Vaelrik!” She rushed to his side and cupped his face, which only made him groan in frustration. “I’ve been so unfair to you! Please forgive me!”

  Tyrin and Veydris, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, burst into laughter.

  “They’ve been like this for years,” Tyrin said, shaking his head.

  “Ever since they fell in love,” Veydris added, smirking. “Marriage only made it crazier.”

  Kyla whipped around, her face flushed with embarrassment. “H-Hey! Stop teasing us!”

  “It’s true,” Vaelrik admitted with a resigned sigh, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But we have matters to attend to. Kyla, you should return home before it gets too late.”

  She hesitated, clearly torn. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “And don’t worry about me. Just… try not to make a scene next time, alright?”

  Kyla nodded reluctantly, gave us one last warm smile, and took off into the sky.

  As we continued walking, the mood grew quieter. After a moment, Vaelrik broke the silence. “I apologize for that… display.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, though I couldn’t help but smile. “You two seem… close.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “She’s a good soul. She wasn’t always this lively, though.”

  “What do you mean?” Mira asked.

  Vaelrik’s expression grew somber. “Kyla… has a condition. A disease that prevents her from having children. It’s incurable, no matter the healers or magic we’ve sought. For years, she blamed herself, thinking she’d robbed us of the chance to build a family.”

  “That’s awful,” Mira whispered while the others seemed silent, bitter. Even the noisy duo, Tyrin Veydris looked away when I glanced back at them.

  “It was,” Vaelrik continued. “But she eventually found a new purpose. She now runs a child care center in our community, looking after twenty young Drakonians. She adores them as well as they adore her back. They often craft her presents such as wreath or bouquet with her and them as the flowers. They were cute and she always display those presents where it is most visible at or house.”

  I couldn’t help but think of my previous life, of my aunt who had gone through something similar. However, the end was more tragic when they got divorced and my aunt became someone with mental illness. The memory weighed heavily on me, but I pushed it aside. “She sounds strong.”

  “She is,” Vaelrik said with a small smile.

  As we walked, a big structure loomed before us

  “We are here.” Vaelrik said it out loud for all of us to hear.” This is the Dragna palace.”

  a breathtaking structure of obsidian and gold. Towering spires reached toward the sky, while intricate carvings of dragons adorned the walls. Guards in gleaming armor stood at attention, their presence imposing.

  The 2 guards raised their spears diagonally, blocking us. “Announced the reasons why you are here!” He said, his voice high.

  They seems have less authorities than Vaelrik but I guess they are just doing their job properly.

  “These people here are summoned by the ‘council’, so I, as the commander of brigade number 1, and the 2 of my lieutenants got the command to escort them here.”

  Hearing this, the guards reluctantly put down their spears and opened the door for us.

  Inside, the space was even grander. Massive chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting shimmering light over the marble floors. Many drakonians dressed up in former clothes, flying across the place. There areeven dragons, small one, fly alongside some of them. The air buzzed faintly with magic, and Vaelrik explained that space magic expanded the interior beyond what the exterior could contain.

  “We have been using spacial magic to expand the interior of the inside of the Dragna palace. Combined it with barrier magic, it can keep the changes inside while not affecting the apperances.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Kaldor said softly, his normally stoic expression betraying awe.

  “It’s big,” Kael muttered. “Too big. Way bigger than its look from the outside, as if it can contains a whole village inside.”

  Vaelrik smiled faintly. “It’s the only structure we can maintain with this level of magic. The mana cost is… substantial.”

  As we approached a massive door at the end of the grand hall, Vaelrik and his companions stopped.

  “This is where we part ways,” Vaelrik said. “Good luck inside. The council is… strict.”

  “Thank you for everything, Mr. Vaelrik”. I said, bowed slightly in front of Tyrin, Veydris and Vaelrik.

  “It’s nothing, really. I don’t want our first visitors, and probably future visitors get frustrated about ouyr manners.” He said, “ And, just call me Vaelrik, only my soldiers need to add ‘Mr.’’ He looked at his 2 friends, or ‘soldiers’.

  “Alright, Mr. ‘I got troubles with my wife’, ready to received the next missions.” Tyrin said as Veydris bursted out a laughter.

  The door creaked open slowly, revealing a chamber that looked suspiciously like a courtroom. Three high chairs stood at the far end, with two Drakonians already seated.

  Inside there are more guards standing near the entrance.

  “Give us your weapons, you can’t bring any kinds of weapons into the chamber.” One said

  Each of us took some time to hand over our weapons. I took of my belt and give my 2 swords to him, and did the others.

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  “This looks bad,” Sylas muttered.

  “No kidding,” I said, my stomach sinking.

  We stepped inside, bracing ourselves for whatever awaited us.

  The grand chamber felt oppressive, the weight of its authority bearing down on us as we stepped inside. The room was vast, with high ceilings supported by dark, ornate pillars carved with twisting dragons. The central focus was three towering thrones positioned at the far end of the room and a shorter one in front. Three of them were occupied, the 2 big ones and the smaller.

  Seated on the left, was a male Drakonian with crimson scales glinting under the light, his stern golden eyes framed by deep creases that spoke of age and wisdom. His horns spiraled elegantly upward, and his demeanor was as imposing as a storm about to break.

  On the right, was a female Drakonian with sleek obsidian scales, her silver eyes sharp and piercing. Her wings were folded tightly behind her, but their sheer size hinted at her power. She exuded an aura of cold precision, her every movement deliberate and calculated.

  Positioned off to the front, was a smaller Drakonian with shimmering emerald scales and a pair of glasses perched delicately on their snout.

  They scribbled notes furiously on a parchment with a quill, their wings twitching in time with their writing, giving them a nervous yet dutiful appearance.

  I couldn’t help but think that this setup resembled some kind of court—minus the familiar witness stands and tables for plaintiffs and defendants. Instead, a simple set of chairs sat in the center, clearly meant for whoever was being judged.

  Duke,” Sylas whispered, leaning toward me. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Stay calm,” I whispered back, my eyes scanning the room. The stone walls loomed high above us, with the echoes of distant whispers barely reaching our ears. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of formalities. “This looks formal. Let’s just… follow their lead for now.”

  As we approached the raised platform where the Council sat, the heavy silence seemed to press down on us. The bulky Drakonian judge rose to his feet, and the floor beneath us seemed to reverberate with the power he commanded. His deep, gravelly voice broke the silence.

  “You must be Duke Caddel and your companions.” He scanned us one by one, his gaze piercing and unwavering. “I’ve heard much about you.”

  I tensed, instinctively straightening up. “I don’t know how you’ve heard of us,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, but I couldn’t suppress the curiosity gnawing at me.

  Judge Daryn’s lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “We are not without our sources, young Caddel,” he said, his tone suggesting he had already anticipated my question. “We know all there is to know about you and your party’s exploits. Your names are already familiar to us.”

  Sylas, always quick to speak her mind, raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ve been keeping tabs on us?”

  “That would be a rather crude way of putting it,” Judge Zeyra interjected, her voice sharp and measured. “We simply keep informed of notable individuals in our realm, especially those whose actions may disrupt the delicate balance we strive to maintain.”

  Her eyes flicked toward each of us, studying our faces as though measuring something beyond just our appearance. "You are not just random adventurers," she continued, her gaze lingering on Kael. “The elf, Sylas… and the others. I assume this is your crew?”

  I nodded slowly, sensing the weight of their awareness. This wasn’t just about the accusations anymore. They had been watching us—at least enough to know who we were.

  Before any of us could respond, Judge Daryn spoke again, his tone now taking on a more formal edge. “Now, to get to the matter at hand. I am Judge Daryn. This is Judge Zeyra,” he motioned toward the woman beside him, her sharp, calculating eyes still watching us intently. “And he is Tharvin, our court reporter,” he gestured to the man seated at a long desk, scribbling furiously on a stack of parchment. “We convene to deliberate on the charges against you.”

  Tharvin didn’t even look up, his quill moving in precise, deliberate strokes, capturing every word as if this moment were nothing more than routine.

  “We are currently awaiting one more member of the Council, but she will be here shortly. Together, we form the ‘Council of Scales,’” Judge Zeyra spoke crisply, her tone formal and unyielding.

  “Council of Scales?” I muttered under my breath, my eyes narrowing at the strange name.

  “Indeed,” Judge Daryn confirmed, his tone growing more somber. “We convene today to address the grave charges brought against you.”

  “Charges?” Mira’s voice broke through the thick tension, her words trembling in the stillness of the chamber. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and confusion.

  Judge Zeyra’s icy gaze swept across the room, locking on each of us in turn. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, but her voice carried the full weight of her authority. “Intrusion into our territory and the kidnapping of a young Drakonian.”

  The accusation hit like a thunderclap. My stomach churned, and I clenched my fists, unable to comprehend the absurdity of it. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in on me, the air suddenly suffocating.

  “That’s a lie!” Sylas blurted, stepping forward, her usually calm demeanor replaced with anger. “We didn’t kidnap anyone! We were trying to help Leif—”

  Kael took a step beside her, his usual calmness shattered. “Kidnapping? Kidnapping?! Do you even understand the weight of your words? We risked our lives to save him! If anything, your people should be thanking us!” His voice, usually soft, rang with a harshness that startled even me.

  Kaldor’s low growl rumbled through the chamber, his fists clenched tightly, his muscles tense with restrained fury. “This is absurd. You accuse us without even knowing the truth. We didn’t intrude—we were brought here by your own! And Leif? He was terrified when we found him, alone and vulnerable. If we hadn’t stepped in, who knows what would’ve happened?”

  Mira, usually reserved and composed, now stood with her finger pointed directly at the judges, her voice a mix of outrage and resolve. “How dare you twist the story like this? We were helping! Leif’s safety was our only concern! And now you’re trying to paint us as villains? What kind of justice is this?”

  Their words rang out in the chamber, filling the space with the heat of emotion. I could feel the fury in their voices, the raw power of their conviction, and it made me want to shout in agreement. But I knew better.

  “Enough!” Judge Daryn’s voice thundered, his claws digging into the armrests of his chair. His eyes, red as embers, flashed with barely contained rage. “You will hold your tongues in this chamber, or face the consequences.”

  Zeyra’s expression remained cold and unaffected, but she intervened smoothly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Judge Daryn, please. There will be no consequences yet, as long as the third judge has not arrived.”

  I let out a quiet sigh, reminding myself that getting into a confrontation would only make things worse. I’d seen enough of these feudal-like courtrooms, and I knew the way the game was played. But this… this felt different. The formality, the cold indifference—it reminded me of some of the more oppressive courts from my past life.

  Instead of reacting, I raised a hand to signal my friends to remain calm. We couldn’t afford to escalate things. “We’ve said our piece,” I said, my voice steady, though my heart pounded in my chest. “Now, we’ll wait for the third judge as you requested. But know this—every word you’ve spoken so far is based on lies.”

  “Silence,” Judge Daryn commanded, his voice a low growl as he raised a hand, silencing me mid-sentence. “Your words mean nothing to us at this moment. The Council will deliberate once all members are present.”

  His dismissal was sharp, final. I couldn’t help but notice the way Zeyra seemed almost accustomed to Daryn’s outbursts, the way she didn’t flinch when he spoke so forcefully. It was as though she had resigned herself to his behavior long ago. But then there was Tharvin.

  The court reporter hadn’t spoken a word, nor had he even glanced up from his papers. His quill continued to move in measured strokes, writing down everything, as if this whole scene was simply another entry in his endless records.

  “Wait until the third judge arrives,” Zeyra said, folding her hands neatly in front of her, her posture as stiff as her tone. “We will proceed when all members of the Council are present.”

  The tension in the room reached a boiling point. My friends exchanged uneasy glances, their frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Sylas, ever the one to speak her mind, was unable to hold her tongue.

  Sylas crossed her arms, her expression defiant. “You call this a court?” she said loudly, her voice echoing through the chamber. “Looks more like a bad puppet show. Maybe you two should retire before you embarrass yourselves further.”

  The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. For a moment, the entire room seemed frozen in time. The clerks at the side of the chamber tensed, while Tharvin, the court reporter, momentarily paused in his furious scribbling. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.

  Then, a low, guttural sound rumbled through the hall. Judge Daryn exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. He leaned forward, gripping the arms of his seat so tightly that the wood groaned under his strength. Slowly, with deliberate movements, he stood, his towering figure casting a shadow over the chamber. His reptilian eyes burned with contempt.

  “You insolent child,” he spat, his voice filled with venom. His sharp claws flexed, and the deep scars on the stone floor beneath his chair suggested that this was not the first time his temper had flared. “You dare mock the sacred traditions of the Drakonians? You stand in the hall of the Council of Scales, accused of crimes against our people, and yet you treat this with such irreverence?!”

  His voice thundered through the chamber, shaking the very walls.

  Sylas scoffed, though I could see the slight shift in her stance—just enough to prepare for a fight if necessary. “Sacred traditions? You mean the part where you accuse innocent people without hearing them out? Yeah, real honorable.”

  Daryn’s tail slammed into the ground with a deafening thud, sending a tremor through the floor. His breath came in sharp, controlled bursts, though I could see the rage in his tightened jaw.

  “Your words are more than just disrespect, elf. They are blasphemy.” His golden eyes glowed with unrestrained fury. “You mock our judgment, mock our council… mock me? Do you truly believe that being our ‘guests’ shields you from consequences?” He let out a deep, guttural growl. “Guest or not, your insults will not be tolerated.”

  Zeyra, who had remained composed thus far, sighed and shook her head slightly. “Daryn,” she murmured, as if already familiar with what was coming next.

  But Daryn was beyond reasoning. His fury had reached its peak. “Enough. If words will not teach you respect, then fire shall.”

  His hands spread wide as he chanted, his voice resonating with raw power. The very air crackled around him as flames erupted from his fingertips, swirling and coiling like serpents preparing to strike.

  "Burning fury of the earth, rise in a blazing column and consume all who dare oppose me! Inferno Pillar!"

  The flames surged, growing brighter, hotter—an unstoppable force of destruction. The heat was suffocating, distorting the air and making it difficult to breathe. My instincts screamed at me: Move. Now.

  “Sylas, what are you doing?” Kael hissed, pulling her back.

  “What, scared?” she shot back, her bravado flickering like a candle in the storm.

  She didn’t wait. Her hands moved in a fluid motion, her voice ringing with urgency as she called upon her own magic.

  "Waters of the deep, rise and protect me from harm! Aqua Shield!"

  A massive barrier of swirling water erupted before us, pulsing with energy. The pressure of the spell sent ripples through the air, droplets forming and cascading around us like a mist. It was powerful enough to block most attacks, but even as it stood between us and Daryn’s inferno, I knew it wouldn't last. The heat alone was already causing the surface of the water to steam.

  This wasn’t just anger.

  Daryn wanted to punish us.

  Before he could unleash the full force of his wrath, a sharp clap echoed through the chamber.

  All eyes turned toward the circular window near the ceiling as it burst open, sending shards of light cascading into the room.

  A small Drakonian silhouette descended, laughter ringing through the air.

  “Alright, alright, that’s enough drama for one day!”

  The figure landed gracefully between us and the furious judge. She was diminutive for a Drakonian, with small wings and a slender tail. Her bright, mischievous grin contrasted sharply with the tension in the room.

  “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, looking around as if she had stumbled into a casual gathering.

  The two judges immediately stiffened. Daryn’s flames flickered out, his scowl deepening.

  “Veyra,” Zeyra said curtly, arms crossed. “You’re late.”

  The girl—Veyra—waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, I’m here now. Besides, looks like I showed up just in time.”

  She turned to us, her gaze sharp yet playful. “So, you’re the ones causing all this fuss?”

  We stared at her, still reeling from what had nearly just happened.

  Finally, I found my voice. “A Drakonian judge… is a kid?”